by Helen Phifer
‘So, what do I call you?’
‘I’m James, this is my boat. You are very lucky. I’d come to make sure she was battened down and secure for the night. Would you care to tell me what you were doing?’
Beth wondered if she should lie, and then decided she couldn’t. He deserved the truth; he’d risked his own life to save hers. A killer wouldn’t do that, would they?
‘I’m Beth Adams, Forensic Pathologist. I’m investigating the drowning of Leah Burton and an unknown female that washed up yesterday evening.’
‘Right. But that doesn’t explain what you were doing hanging off the side of my boat in a storm.’ He smiled at her.
‘I found trace evidence on both bodies and thought maybe it had come off this boat, but when I got here I realised it couldn’t have. I saw the rowing boat attached to the back and thought maybe it had come from that. Thank you for saving me. I was very stupid. I really appreciate what you’ve done for me.’
She picked up the mug, blew the hot tea and began to sip it.
He nodded, and then seemed to realise what she’d said. ‘There’s another body? I didn’t know. I mean, how could I? I haven’t had anything to do with either of them, if that’s what you’re wondering. I already had two coppers here this afternoon questioning me.’
Josh would be furious with her when she told him what she’d done. Maybe she wouldn’t tell him. He didn’t need to know how reckless she’d been, did he? Robert’s face flashed into her mind. Was she being so careless because, deep down, his death was affecting her more than she cared to admit? He’d messed with her head all these years; was she crazy to think it would stop now he was dead?
Thirty-Four
Jodie had smiled so brightly at the sight of Josh walking onto the ward that a pang of guilt flashed through him. He felt sorry for her. He would do right by her, help her, stand by her; but he didn’t love her. He hadn’t loved her for a long time, and he desperately hoped she wasn’t thinking they could carry on where they’d left off, because they couldn’t. He didn’t have the heart to upset her right now though, not when she was this frail and the sight of him made her look this happy.
He’d pushed her in a wheelchair all the way down to the main entrance, then went to get the car. Then he’d helped her in and driven her home, where they were now in the middle of putting the shopping away. In the past, he’d leave her to do this, but she looked exhausted, almost crushed under the weight of a large paper bag full of her medications on her lap. It would take a pharmacist to work all of them out – no wonder she’d almost overdosed herself.
It was late, and he hadn’t heard from Beth. He’d rung several times to speak to her and tell her where he was, but she hadn’t answered and he figured she was either working late or had fallen asleep. She didn’t go out much, but she was better than she had been in the past. He didn’t leave a message: what could he say? Sorry, I’ll be late, I’m just helping my wife put the shopping away. He pushed away the thought and zoned back into what Jodie was saying to him.
‘—So, anyway, I told them unless they could actually find me a wig that looks natural it didn’t matter. I mean it’s winter, I’d rather wear a hat.’
He stared at her, not having a clue what she was talking about and nodded.
‘Does Beth know where you are?’ she said suddenly.
‘No, I didn’t tell her.’
‘Why? It’s not as if you’re doing anything wrong, is it? You’re just helping me out. I don’t think she’ll mind.’
Josh couldn’t answer because he didn’t know if she would or not. He knew he didn’t want to hurt her and this – he looked down at the frozen lasagne he was holding – this might hurt her a lot. She didn’t deserve that after everything she’d been through. ‘I haven’t had chance; we’ve both been very busy at work. I didn’t even see her last night. I’ll tell her when I go home.’
Jodie nodded and began to walk towards the stairs. ‘I need the toilet and then I need to lie down. Those tablets wipe me out. I have no energy. Can you manage to finish off?’
Once upon a time he would have taken that as her being sarcastic, but he looked at her and realised it was a genuine question.
‘Yeah, I can.’
She began to climb the stairs in a slow shuffle, and he turned away. She reminded him more of her elderly gran than the thirty-five-year-old who had been his wife. Life was shit at times…
There was a loud thump and a muffled cry from upstairs. Josh dropped the jar of mayonnaise he was putting away, shattering it into a thousand pieces all over the tiled floor as he ran to find Jodie collapsed on the floor at the top of the stairs. He took them two at a time, and when he reached her, she was curled up in a ball, sobbing.
‘Are you hurt, what happened?’
She shook her head. ‘My stupid knee gave way, I’m fine.’
‘You don’t sound fine.’
She smiled. ‘I’m crying because I’m pissed off, Josh. I’m sick of feeling like this.’
He helped her to her feet. Gently taking hold of her elbow, he guided her into the bathroom, where he left her and waited outside on the landing for her. What was he supposed to do? He knew this wasn’t right. It wasn’t his responsibility; they weren’t a married couple any more. Yet, he could no longer leave her like this than he could any other friend. Despite their differences, she deserved more. He felt a stab of guilt as his mind whispered: what about Beth? She deserves more too.
Thirty-Five
James passed Beth a pair of rubber boots. ‘Thank you, I’ll return these, and your clothes. I really am very grateful.’ She slipped them on and stood up; her frozen hands and toes had finally thawed out. The magnitude of how stupid she’d been was weighing heavy on her shoulders.
‘Like I told those detectives earlier, if you have anything you need to speak to me about I’d appreciate it if you made an appointment with me. Next time I might not be around if you decide to do your own stunts. I don’t mean to rub it in or anything, but that really was a crazy thing to do. Aren’t you supposed to work on the bodies in the mortuary? Are the police that hard up for cash they have you out doing their job as well?’
She smiled. ‘I was investigating to satisfy my own questions. I don’t think I have anything further to ask you.’
He nodded, passed her a black bin liner containing her sodden clothing and followed her as she made her way back up onto the deck. Beth didn’t know if he was making sure she got off his boat, or whether he was ensuring she didn’t fall overboard. The wind was still blowing, but the rain had eased off to a steady drizzle. She moved cautiously – one dip into the lake was enough for one evening. He took the bag from her to allow her to climb off the boat using two hands, and once she was safely on the jetty he passed it back to her, then climbed over himself to walk with her along the jetty and back to where her car was parked. He left her to go to the private car park for boat owners, and she turned away, mortified that her mediocre investigating had almost cost her her life.
Inside the car she turned the heaters on full and recoiled at the initial blast of cold air that was expelled through them. She drove in silence, not in the mood for anything, except maybe a glass of wine and for Josh to wrap his arms around her.
As she drove in through the automatic gates her heart sank once more; Josh was late home again. When she’d spoken with him he was in the supermarket. Surely he hadn’t gone back to work with a car full of shopping? Letting herself in to the house, she went straight into her open-plan kitchen, took a bottle of wine from the fridge and poured herself a large glass which she drank almost in one go. Then she refilled it.
Realising she’d left her phone in the car, she went outside to retrieve it and the bag of clothing. She went inside and wondered if she’d managed to lose the sample that had almost cost her her life. Ripping open the sack, she found her waterlogged coat and pushed her hand into the pocket. A small gasp of joy escaped her lips as her fingers curled around the small plastic evidence jar.
For the first time since she’d fallen into the water, she smiled. Taking it to one side, she lifted it to the light. There wasn’t much inside it, the smallest curl of paint, but hopefully it would be enough for a comparison. She would send it off to the lab first thing tomorrow, fast-tracked.
Taking it into the kitchen, she put the jar into her handbag which she’d left on one of the bar stools. Now if only Josh would come home soon everything would be better. She wanted to lie next to him and absorb every ounce of his body heat. She looked at her phone to see there were three missed calls from him. She rang him back, but it went to voicemail. They were like passing ships in the night and it was driving her mad. Taking her wine and a family-sized bag of salt and vinegar crisps, she went up to bed, to watch television until he came home.
As she sat cross-legged on the bed in her fleecy pyjamas watching Bridesmaids for the tenth time, she tried not to think about James Marshall. He didn’t seem like a killer to her; he had saved her life, there was no doubt about it. Maybe those women had really drowned because of their own stupidity; hadn’t she just proved to herself how easily it could happen – and she’d been sober. They knew from eyewitness reports that Leah Burton had consumed a large amount of alcohol while on the boat. Was she being overly cautious and finding suspicious motives when there were none? It was possible. She didn’t know what to think.
Finishing the last of the wine, she stood up and brushed the crisp crumbs off herself and the bed. Leaving the television on because she couldn’t bear to lie in the dark, in silence, she lay down and closed her eyes. The room began to swim slightly and she threw the duvet back and put one foot onto the floor as if to anchor herself. A packet of crisps and a full bottle of wine was probably not the best choice for her evening meal, although she could count the grapes in the wine as part of her five a day. Her stomach lurched and she just made it to the bathroom before she threw up all over the side of the toilet, giving off the smell of wine and the crisps mixed with the underlying earthy smell of the water from the lake she’d swallowed. She retched again, memories of swallowing a huge mouthful of the water when she’d plunged into the water making her stomach churn. When she could only dry-heave she stood up, washed her face then cupped her hands and drank as much water as she could stomach. Her head was now pounding and all she wanted to do was lie down and go to sleep, black out and forget about what had happened.
Back in bed, this time the room stayed still. She closed her eyes and began to count. Before she’d managed to get to thirty, she let out a gentle snore and the world went blank.
Thirty-Six
When Beth opened her eyes she realised the house was suddenly quiet and still. It was still dark but the howling wind and lashing rain had died down. The bed was empty beside her and she felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness engulf her. She climbed out of bed in search of ice cold water and some painkillers to numb the throbbing inside her head. As she made her way downstairs, she hoped to find Josh sprawled out on the sofa; occasionally if he was home too late he’d sleep there, not wanting to disturb her. She peered into the lounge. It was empty. Maybe she should get a dog; at least it could keep her company on the nights Josh wasn’t around. She hated how needy she was getting. She never used to be this way. How things change.
After swallowing two paracetamol along with a large glass of water, she went back to bed. It niggled her that he was working all night even though both the girls’ deaths were filed as ‘accidental’. She lay down in bed, checked her phone again then decided to ring him back. About to end the call, his voice suddenly whispered down the line.
‘Hi.’
This completely threw her.
‘Morning, just checking you’re okay?’
‘I’m good thanks, are you?’
‘Where are you, Josh?’
There was a slight pause. ‘I’m still at work, helping with a case in Barrow.’
For the first time since they’d been together, she didn’t believe him. For one thing, he usually told her exactly what he was working on, no names, but they’d discuss cases over dinner most nights. He was being secretive; this wasn’t like him and she didn’t like it. It also didn’t sound as if he was in a police station. It was far too quiet.
‘I’ll be home soon, you get some sleep.’
‘Okay, bye.’ About to end the call, she heard a woman coughing in the background and a sharp, shooting pain shot through her heart. Dropping the phone on the bedside table, she felt hot tears sting her eyes as her mind ran through a list of names of the women he worked with. Josh and Sam worked together a lot, but she was married with kids and Beth got the impression from her she was happy with her home life. No, she didn’t think it would be her. There were plenty of young female officers for him to choose from though. If Josh was cheating on her she knew it would destroy every ounce of her faith in humanity; she had come so far and knew that it would send her reeling back into her shell and that existence of never being able to trust another human being again.
She didn’t know she was properly crying until she realised her pillow was wet. Her fingers reached up to wipe the tears from her eyes, then moved up to the side of her forehead where the scar was: her personal reminder that life was precious and could be taken away in the blink of an eye. The tips of her fingers rubbed against it, tracing the puckered pink line. A voice whispered inside her head: you’re wrong about this, Beth, completely wrong. There’s no way he would cheat on you. He would tell you to your face if he wasn’t in love with you. She wanted to agree with it one hundred per cent, but something was telling her it was wrong. Something was going on, and she needed to find out what.
Thirty-Seven
Beth lay in bed; it was Saturday, her day off and technically she wasn’t on call. She stretched out thinking she would love nothing more than to stay in bed. If Josh were here then she definitely would have. It was a rare treat for them both to be off on the same day. She tried hard to push the fluttering feeling inside her chest away, to stop those tiny wings of fear from taking over. She was being irrational. If he had worked all night at the station then it was likely Sam or other colleagues would be there with him. Maybe that was why he was whispering. Where else could he be? As long as she’d known him, and despite being unhappily married to Jodie, he’d never strayed. Occasionally he’d stopped over at hers when things got bad at home, but it was rare, and he’d always slept on the sofa or the guest room depending upon how drunk he was and if he’d been able to navigate the stairs. The thought hit her hard: Jodie. What if he’d decided to go back to her, give her another chance? She sat up and swung her legs out of the bed. The only way she would know was if she drove past their house.
Ten minutes later, wearing no make-up and her hair in a short ponytail, she left her house, unable to eat anything because of the sense of dread she was feeling. On the drive to Josh’s old house she told herself over and over again she was being ridiculous. Reaching the outskirts of the town, she realised she would be passing the police station. It was better to check the car park which surrounded it out first; he was more likely to be there, or his car was. If she saw it parked up, she’d drive past and go to McDonald’s to buy them both breakfast, dropping it off for him on the way back.
As she drove down the small road which opened onto the station and surrounding car parks, she couldn’t spot his Mini. Just to be sure she did a loop of the whole area, checking out all the nooks and crannies where a car could be parked to double-check. Her heart was beating double time and she questioned why she was doing this to herself; why was she being so suspicious? She didn’t know, never pegging herself as needy, but perhaps a little insecure. Okay, a lot insecure, but only because of her past. Who wouldn’t be after having almost died twice at the hands of the same killer? Then last night she had foolishly put herself in the most dangerous situation possible and could have died again. How many lives do you have, Beth Adams? she whispered to herself.
Driving along the one-way system to get to the stre
et where Josh used to live with Jodie was slow as morning traffic was starting to build, and she wished she’d thought of this earlier. All she wanted to do was to get this over with. What are you going to do if his car is there? she asked herself. She couldn’t answer because, truthfully, she had no idea.
Finally, the turning for the street of terraced houses loomed in the distance; a part of her wanted to drive past and not even turn her head in that direction. Ignorance was sometimes bliss; it had served her well for the last seven years of her life. With trembling hands, she indicated and turned into the street, not quite sure what number his house was. She knew it was three quarters of the way down, but before she was even halfway down her heart lurched at the sight of Josh’s familiar racing green Mini. Bile rose up her throat, the bitter taste lingering there.
Having no option but to continue, she drove towards it. She didn’t want to look at the house, but her eyes glanced sideways, and she saw everything she needed to confirm her worst fear: Josh was standing with his back to the window, his tousled hair sticking up like it did every morning when he woke up beside her. Her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes and she had to blink several times to dispel them – she wouldn’t cry over him. She’d be damned if she let herself cry over any man. Slamming her foot down, she drove to a small café she knew nearby and used to favour when she was on her own – before Josh came into her life as more than her good friend. Parking nearby, she dabbed her eyes with a tissue, grabbed her purse and crossed the road.